armour, let it through
by lismicro
Summary: This isn't a date. Not if Gail is wearing a nice dress, not if Holly has her hair down, not even if it's a beautiful night and the repercussions won't come until tomorrow. This isn't a date. (Cross-posted to AO3, now complete).
1. Chapter 1

Gail Peck is furious.

Never mind that she had given up an evening with the season finale of Breaking Bad for tonight. Never mind that Traci had dragged her to three different boutiques last Saturday in search of the perfect dress. Never mind that she had caught Nick and Andy sucking face like teenagers in the locker room earlier today, and had to retaliate by spraying shaving cream in Andy's good boots.

She is Gail Peck. No one stands up _Gail fucking Peck._

Yet here she is, standing in her entryway with her hand literally on the doorknob, staring at her mother's latest text. Nope, sorry, the _handsome investor_ that Elaine had crowed about for the last week had canceled at the last moment. She didn't even get his name. The cab had been called and reservations had been made, and now she was out of a date.

Fuck.

Gail smashes her thumb down on the home button and tosses the phone onto the couch. Then she kicks off her heels and flops down next to it.

See, people think she's cold, that she's an ice princess, that nothing but policing, family, and maybe sex mattered to her. And mostly it's true; Chris and Nick had been outliers in that pattern, and look at how those situation had worked out. Gail is pretty sure she'd rather streak through Toronto in the dead of winter than go through that again. This asshole probably didn't even know she was a cop.

Still, it feels like the universe is flipping her off.

At that moment, her phone vibrates from its place on the couch cushion. Gail looks at it for a second before striding over, ready to rip a new one into her mother if she's texting to cheer her up.

It's from Holly.

_What's up?_

The strangest feeling washes over her, a sort of warm buzz that begins in her cheeks and diffuses to her stomach.

She hasn't seen or spoken to Holly since that night three days ago, when Andy had looked at her with so much sorrow and desperation when she'd confessed to sleeping with Nick. Knowing they'd actually done the deed hurt like hell, but what had been worse was the burn of betrayal of someone she trusted. Andy was supposed to be loyal and honest. She was supposed to have Gail's back.

She was supposed to be Gail's _real_ friend.

And when Andy had stood there without a word, just taking everything she was given, Gail had glanced over her shoulder and seen Holly enter, caught sight of her as she leaned against the counter. Glasses perched on her head, hands in pockets, waiting for Gail like she'd been doing it her entire life. There was an uncharacteristic softness about her that reminded Gail of Frank and Noelle's wedding, when both of them had been tempered by alcohol and stole away to the coatroom to while away the rest of the night.

She'd made some offhand comment about lesbianism that she didn't even remember now, and Holly hadn't been offended. Instead, she had smiled, leaned in, and kissed her. Kissed her, and then slid effortlessly into an easygoing smirk before leaving Gail stupefied, wrapped in a stranger's furs and with her champagne glass hovering in midair.

God, that kiss. They haven't spoken about it since it happened. At this point Gail isn't sure it actually did.

But the moment had passed and Gail had brushed right through Andy on her way to Holly because it seemed like the right thing, the only thing, to do.

She quickly taps out a return text.

_Slap me the next time my mother tries to set me up. Douchebag didn't show._

It takes Holly a full five minutes to text back.

_Ouch. I can help u hide the body if u need it. _

_Thanks for the offer. You busy tonight?_

Another ten minutes. God, was Holly typing with her tongue or something?

_I might be. You have other plans?_

Gail chews on her thumbnail, which is a disgusting habit but inevitably shows up when she's stressed. Which is fucking ridiculous, because this is Holly and why is she stressed just_ texting_ Holly? So much for a cop's confidence.

_Dov, Chris, and Chloe are all working graveyard shift. I have TV and popcorn. And vodka. Come over?_

_Can't, have other plans._

_Better than hanging out with me? Bitch, please._

_I know. I must be out of my mind._

There's really no smartass way to reply to that, and Gail frowns in annoyance before getting back up from the couch. It doesn't mean anything, Holly being out tonight. She's about to go her bedroom to change out of her stupid, uncomfortable dress when the doorbell rings. The tinkling greeting is so unexpectedly loud in the silence that she stops dead and half-glances at the safe where her Glock resides when she's off-duty.

_Well, that's fucking weird._

Gail makes her way to the entryway, opens the door- and nearly slams it shut again in shock.

Holly is standing there, like magic, one arm leaning cockily against the doorframe and the other tucked into the pocket of her coat. A bulky, knee-length coat that does nothing to take away from Holly's perfect makeup and cocky, blinding smile. Her glasses rest at the top of her head. She's dressed up and lovely and for some reason, _at Gail's door._

"Hello there." Holly grins, and a pleasant flutter of nerves spreads across Gail's chest.

_What the hell?_

"Wait a second-" She looks down at the phone in her hand. _Sent a minute ago._ "Did you just text and drive?"

A look of guilt flashes over Holly's face before she raises an eyebrow. "Um, maybe? But I swear, it was a red light and the streets are practically empty. The Leafs and the Canadiens are playing tonight- every red-blooded male is probably glued to the television right now with a bowl of chips and salsa. Anyway, I wanted to get here as soon as possible and I have very good fingers, so-" Holly waves said fingers in Gail's face.

Gail stares blankly at her, running through a list of possible reactions before settling on confusion to stop herself from thinking about Holly's fingers.

"I could arrest you. Honest to God, I should."

"Ah, but then you wouldn't make it to your date, now would you?"

"A date? Who with?"

Holly lifts an eyebrow, then pulls her hands out of her pockets, gesturing down her body. It pretty much gives Gail free rein to stare, and there is _so much_ to look at. Holly is _stunning_ tonight, a little black dress that made her legs endless and her hips to die for, miles and miles of smooth olive skin that managed to look good even in the dingy lighting.

"Pssh, do you think I lounge around at home in these clothes? Go grab a coat, we're going to be late for dinner if you don't hurry up. I'm taking you out on that date you were promised."

Gail only gapes as Holly pushes her way inside the apartment, stunned into silence. The other woman runs a hand down the wall, nodding approvingly at the choice of décor. When Gail still hasn't moved ten seconds later, she steps in Gail's direction and waves a hand in her face.

"Hello? Look, it's almost freezing out there and as edible as you look in that dress, my stomach is going to eat itself if I don't get food in it soon. Get moving!"

It's only when Holly picks up the issue of GQ (Chris's, and Dov's when he's not looking) on the coffee table and starts flipping through it that Gail is jolted back into the real world. She closes the door with a bang and turns back around.

"H-holly!"

"Hmm?"

"What-are you fucking crazy? I'm not going on a date with you.

"Why not?"

God, Holly isn't even looking at her. She's bouncing on the bottoms of her feet, clearly impatient, and hasn't taken off her heels. Now she's abandoned the magazine and is craning her neck to look around a corner of the living room.

"Because-" Gail trips and splutters and almost bites down on her tongue. Holly pays no attention.

"Because it's _stupid._ And lame. I don't need your pity date, okay? I'm not some frail fucking flower that needs tending to after someone steps on me."

Holly stops her survey of Gail's apartment and turns to properly look at her for the first time since she's arrived. She takes a step forward and Gail takes a step back, suddenly overwhelmed by Holly's warm, earnest presence. But try as she might she can't tear her gaze away from Holly's, who is peering into her with nothing but confidence, and a little incredulity.

"_Of course_ you're not."

There it is again, that look that makes Gail sure Holly knows something about her that Gail herself didn't understand. It's foreign and does weird things to her insides and Gail wants it gone _right now_.

Instead, she swallows hard and looks away, silent. An awkwardness permeates before Holly tilts her glasses back down her face and holds her palms up, lowering her voice.

"Hey. I just thought you needed a distraction from tonight. A friend of mine works at the new restaurant that just opened up on the bay, and I've got reservations for two. And I want you to be my plus-one this time."

Gail takes a deep breath and composes herself, running a hand through her hair and sitting down on the couch, as far as she can get from Holly. She tries to curl up in a ball before remembering that her dress is skin-tight and damn, she might have just flashed Holly.

"C'mon, you owe me."

"I'm going to miss tonight's Breaking Bad. It's the season finale."

"I'll record it for you."

"It's not the same."

Holly throws her hands up in (tolerant, she hopes) exasperation, and walks up to Gail until her legs bump the coffee table and Gail's roughly eye level with her stomach, which forces her to look up and into Holly's determined face.

"It's just two friends going out for dinner. Friends, Gail. Having a nice night without any pressure or expectations, and tomorrow you can go back to 15 and brag about what a hot date you had last night."

Gail picks at a piece of lint on the seat cushion. She's already made up her mind, but she's not going to let Holly know that. She holds up a finger.

"Just to be clear, we're not going on a date. That's not what this is. I'm not going kiss you when tonight's over and done with."

Holly rolls her eyes.

"Oh God, I think I might never recover."

Gail stops messing with her hair and glares in indignation.

"Excuse me? You should be _devastated. _Do you know how many people would kill-"

Holly throws back her head and laughs.

"Alright, alright, I'll be completely ruined, okay? So is that a yes?"

_No. _

"Fine, let me get my coat. God, are you always this pushy?"

Holly pulls out her phone, punches in a few numbers, and smiles again as Gail stalks off to the bedroom. She can't possibly see Gail smile from where she's standing in the living room, but Gail hears her call out.

"I've got the cab!"


	2. Chapter 2

It's incredibly awkward at first.

Gail protests that a cab really isn't necessary, given that Holly has already broken at least three traffic regulations in her own car getting here, but Holly just twists away from her when she goes for the phone, dangling it above and away from Gail's outstretched hand.

"Like you would ride in some stranger's car on the first date."

"I told you, this isn't a-"

Then Gail reasons that having no designated driver will make this whole experience easier on the both of them, and relents. Any night can basically be salvaged by alcohol. She's not going to deprive Holly of that escape, if this encounter goes south and they both end up needing to be completely trashed. They wait for the cab outside, breathing white puffs of smoke into each other's faces in the chill January.

Holly doesn't say a word as she stands in the illumination of the streetlamp, swaying back and forth and content to just share Gail's space, apparently. Gail glances at her once, looks away, and then looks back.

"What?" Holly asks, shivering slightly. Gail is a little surprised that she noticed.

"I hope you realize how weird this is."

"Variety is the spice of life! And for all the shit we see at work, Officer Peck, I think we deserve the best life has to offer."

Gail looks at her and understands, for a moment, what it feels like to be Holly.

She ignores the little voice in her head saying that Holly's never going to understand what it's like to be Gail Peck.

"You know, I'm not usually…like this."

Holly seems to sense that this is a Serious Gail Moment, and almost imperceptibly her face softens before she shifts closer to the other woman's body.

"Like what?"

"I'm not…spontaneous. I don't grab the bull by the horns, I don't do things unless I'm sure I can control what happens after. Being here throws my entire system out of whack and I don't know what to fucking do with it. I don't know what I'm doing here. Holly, _I don't know_. "

Holly looks stricken for a moment, unsure for the first time tonight. It's endearing, to see the smirk fall off her face and her eyebrows scrunch together in mild panic.

"Look, if it makes you that uncomfortable, we really don't have to-"

Gail interrupts.

"So this better be a damn good restaurant you're taking me to."

She's basically told Holly that she's special enough, somehow, to make Gail do this uncomfortable thing for her, and to feel okay about it. And there's a nervous chuckle from Holly that vibrates through her with its intentions, and as Holly steps closer in gratitude Gail's breath hitches tightly in her throat.

Holly's hand reaches up to touch her wrist. Her "very good fingers" are shaking against the pulse in Gail's veins.

It's not like she's doing any better- the blood roars in her ears, thunderous, and her eyes go from Holly's eyes, to her lips, and back to her eyes. She has no idea what the expression on her face looks like- a scared rabbit, maybe, or just some fool waiting for something to happen. Her fingers clench in confusion.

They are mere inches apart, and for an instant Gail's pounding heart is certain that Holly is about to kiss her.

A pair of bright headlights startles them apart.

Holly says, in a strangled sort of voice, completely unnecessarily-"Cab's here."

The driver pulls up and Gail shakily climbs inside, watching Holly situate herself moments later. The woman leans forward to give the driver the address of the restaurant and then lays back, turning to look at Gail. Her hand lies on the seat cushion, an inch away from Gail's thigh, warm enough for her to feel it. She wants so badly to reach out and touch it but she can't bring herself to, and turns away from Holly's eyes.

She's never been so grateful for talkative Toronto cab drivers.

They talk about nothing all the ride there, the weather and pulmonary embolisms and 15 Division's new cruisers, and it's better than any silence that she could have expected or wanted. The night is clear and crisp and even though its freezing Gail rolls the window down. Holly wasn't lying before- the streets are nearly empty, and the wind whips the hair around her face.

When they arrive at the restaurant, Holly exits first, dashes to Gail's door and nearly falls against the car trying to get it open before Gail does.

"You are such a dork."

"Only for you, darling."

And things are normal again.

* * *

The restaurant is nice. Like, very nice.

So nice that Gail clutches her purse a little tighter to the side of her thigh, just in case her credit card realizes where it is and decides to make a run for it.

It's also the furthest place from what she expected; all fairy lights and mahogany chairs and white damask tablecloths, There is even a live string quartet in the corner. Everywhere she looks, she sees black ties and jeweled throats and suddenly she feels terribly underdressed. Gail's been at the Penny for so many of her nights that she forgets places like this exist, sometimes.

Holly clearly hasn't.

There are also only couples, as far as the eye can see. One of them is necking, rather conspicuously, in the corner, and no one is commenting or looking at the two of them with disapproval. Two women, out on the town for the night. Nothing strange here, and Gail feels herself relax the tiniest bit.

Holly leans down on the maître d's podium, asks for a Jennifer. The woman appears almost instantaneously, dressed in a ridiculous tuxedo, and hugs Holly for a good minute before dashing away to get a suitable waiter.

When she's gone, Gail turns to Holly.

"Who was supposed to be your date?"

"Huh?"

"Jennifer's your connection here-" Gail nods at her retreating back. " -there's no way you could have gotten reservations last minute. Who was the other person supposed to be?"

"No one- she offered two but I was planning to go alone."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I'm glad you care."

"I don't ca- I mean, it's not like being single is a sin. You're a grown woman, I know you can handle your shit."

It's such a reflex reaction that Gail winces and Holly laughs.

"That has to be the weirdest compliment I've gotten on a first date- you can handle your shit, Holly. I don't think anyone's ever said that to me. What's next? _Nice financial portfolio you got there, Holly. Nice dental work, Holly."_

"Shut up-" Gail hisses, flushing. "And would you quit calling it a date?"

Holly smiles, opening her hands magnanimously. "Whatever you say, m'lady."

Jennifer shows up again, waiter in tow, and Gail feels that pang of jealousy in her stomach when she runs her hand down Holly's arm, laughing again. Upon further inspection, she's obscenely pretty and has a smile that rivals Holly's own. Gail's mind races with the possibilities as they walk to a table, her hands gripping the edge of her seat.

_C'mon, Holly is obviously with you. They're just friends. _

Still, the visions of pulling her away from the forensic pathologist by physical force don't dissipate until Jennifer retreats back to the kitchen and they're left alone again.

Holly smiles charmingly at the waiter and asks for the wine menu, insistent on asking about every vintage on the page while Gail tries her absolute hardest not to snort at Holly's terrible French accent. It fails, miserably, when Holly nudges her elbow and asks her opinion about three types of wine that all look the same to Gail.

The waiter clearly has not had anyone pay him any attention in a while, and drones on delightedly about the merits of the Pinot Blanc before scampering away to get a certain vintage.

Gails cocks her head. He's cute in that limp, puppy-dog way, but the guy needs at least three square meals before he can even pass as human.

"So?" Holly's glasses glitter in the light. She really is stunning.

"So what?"

"C'mon, Gail, he was totally checking you out." This is news to Gail. She didn't even notice, and she usually notices- if only to shoot them down in the most painful, personal way possible. "Give him a chance- I'll totally be your wingman if you want to take him home…after his shift."

"That's gross. I'd rather feed him than fuck him."

"What's with the dirty mouth, Peck?" Holly smiles, shaking out her napkin and accidentally flipping her steak knife across the table. It clatters about a millimeter from Gail's hand.

"_Jesus_- Holly!"

"Shit- sorry. You okay?"

"No, I'm not okay!" Gail whisper-yells, glancing quickly at their waiter's retreating back. "You almost stabbed me!"

"Almost does not mean I did. And I did graduate from medical school, so I could patch you up with this table cloth and a bobby pin, relax."

Gail glares.

"You work with corpses. Forgive me if I don't have the strongest faith in your skill with actual living people-"

"You work with serial killers! I can't believe you're taking a little knife so seriously."

"-and you need to work on your doctor-patient sensitivity. " Gail finishes, a smile tugging hard on her mouth despite herself. And because Holly notices these types of things, she grins and cocks her head to the side in amusement.

"I didn't see you at the last sensitivity training 15 Division planned. Busy day, hmmm?"

"Argh, you know that sensitivity training is shit. I have plenty of sensitivity for the people who deserve it. And like I'm actually going to show the slightest bit of concern for someone who's- I dunno, shot a dozen people. And don't tell me you would either."

And then Gail looks at the clock and realizes that the first half-hour of this thing has passed and she's still here. And wanting to remain here. Holly sits opposite her, sipping slowly at her wine, dark eyes lighting up every time she looks at Gail.

Oh no.

* * *

The menus are printed on buttery leather and Gail almost spits wine onto the tablecloth when she looks at the list of appetizers.

"Thirty dollars?! For cow guts?"

"It's sweetbreads, Gail, not "cow guts". This restaurant is the only place in Toronto who serves them."

"For good fucking reason, it sounds disgusting. And I'm a cop, Holly."

"So?"

"So, if the appetizer costs that much, I'm going to have to put a down payment on the food."

Holly waves her hand carelessly, takes another sip of wine.

"Save it, I'm paying tonight."

"I can't let you-"

"Gail. Would you relax and let me treat you to this for once? Call it even for taking you to the cages a week ago, something I clearly misjudged about you. Making amends should be so easy. "

Gail picks up her fork and twirls it curiously around her fingers.

"So is this how lesbians order, then? Like, someone gets to be the guy and pay for the dinner and the date, the other is the girl and sits still and pretty? Because I can get used to this."

"First of all, _wow_, offensive. And secondly, I'd think you would be the guy, miss big butch police officer."

"I am not butch!"

The waiter, returning to take their orders, is visibly startled by Gail's too-loud declaration but takes their orders without comment. That doesn't stop Holly from laughing uproariously at her as Gail blushes a furious red. She searches for something suitably vicious to toss at Holly, since she is still above actually pushing Holly's face down into the soup steaming underneath her chin.

She finds nothing.

"-_not butch_." She growls across the table, when they've drawn attention away from themselves.

Holly just wipes at her eyes.

After only a few minutes, their food arrives.

_Well done, Jennifer._

Any lingering doubts about going out tonight with Holly pretty much fade away with when Gail takes the first bite, because for all the ways her night has gone badly, the food is good enough to make up for it. It's incredibly liberating not to have to order a salad and check her teeth periodically for green. With Holly, she can take proper mouthfuls. She can get sauce on her chin and Holly just snarks and throws a napkin at her face.

Holly has ordered some seafood thing that is more parsley than anything else, and Gail wrinkles her nose in distaste. They eat in silence for a while until Gail gently rattles her silverware and Holly looks up. She smiles and taps her fork against her lips.

"So, aren't we supposed to be talking? People who go to dinner generally don't go just to eat."

"Okay, so how am I doing? As dinner dates go?"

"Well, you lost points for almost stabbing me in the hand-"

Holly coughs in protest.

"-but I'm willing to let that slide, depending on how you recover."

"And what would constitute recovering?" Holly smiles, and traces a fingertip around the edge of her wine glass. The movement is undeniably seductive, black fingernail polish against ruby-red liquid, and Gail catches herself starting to lean forward to get a better look. She coughs and crams a green bean into her mouth.

"I don't know, you're the one who's supposed to figure that out. Astound me with the quality of your small talk."

"I'm no good at small talk."

"Neither am I."

"I guess we're out of luck."

"Holly."

Gail twists the napkin around her fingers and says Holly's name with more firmness than usual. Holly puts down her fork and steeples her fingers.

"Okay, okay. Um….where do you see yourself in ten years?"

"Wow- do all lesbians get this deep on you on the first date?" Why is she bringing that word into conversation? Wow, she must have drunk more wine than she first thought. Holly winking doesn't help matters.

"Only if you're lucky."

Gail chews the inside of her cheek.

"You first."

"Chief forensic pathologist, full authority over the forensic unit. I've been trying to get a grant for a bigger and better lab, more equipment, more qualified staff. Maybe then you guys on the force won't have to wait for a set of results when all the machines or people are occupied. Toronto's not known for the incredible achievements of its forensic department, and I'd like to change that."

"And for yourself?"

Holly taps her fingers along her chin for a good minute before answering.

"I'd like a house in the suburbs somewhere, near enough for the commute but far away from all the shit that goes down in the city. A few dogs, since my apartment complex bans them. I'd like to be healthy and secure and as happy as I am now."

Gail is mesmerized. The way Holly talks, open and honest and completely trusting, is completely foreign and incredibly enthralling. No one actually exists who talks like that. Surely Holly missed something as she was growing up, a slap-in-the-face that should have knocked the naivety out of her. Gail certainly didn't.

"You don't want to be, like, married or have kids or anything?"

"Hmm, maybe. But I've put myself out there plenty, already, and if it happens, it happens. If I wake up tomorrow and have the sudden urge to run to the chapel and pop out some babies? I'll roll with it. But for right now, I'm having dinner with beautiful company and I have a job that's fulfilling if nothing else, and that's enough for me."

It's not just her words; it's Holly's attitude, the way her posture just oozes confidence and some inner peace that envelops everything she does. See, Gail would have never revealed that much on the first date. Too risky. Too clingy. She actually doesn't have the foggiest about what to say, mostly because she's stuck on "beautiful company". But she's only got so much time before Holly asks-

"So how about you? Got a ten year plan?"

Gail shrugs. She's nearly done with her food, so she leans back and slowly swirls the wine in her glass around, and around. She doesn't miss the way Holly's eyes move from her glass, to her face, and back again.

"Probably still at 15. Preferably, not killed or maimed or traumatized."

"Gail." Holly's voice is soft, chastising. She's worried Holly. Gail scrambles to fix it.

"I mean, in all honesty I'll probably be a white-shirt in the next five years .You know my mother, the superintendent? She'll make sure I stop pounding pavement as soon as possible so I can sit in an office all day, pushing paperwork and ordering other officers around. It's safer but so damn boring."

"Wait, did you make that 10 year plan or did your mother?"

Gail shakes her head.

"They're one and the same. Comes with being a Peck."

"It shouldn't be that way."

"Well, it's not like I can help it, Holly." She snaps. "I have a reputation and a family name to keep clean, and that doesn't involve getting to be a hero all the time, or even being good at shooting a paper target." _Or dating women._

"Is that why you came with me to the lab that day?"

"What?"

"The day we first met. I know you're not afraid of looking death in the face, but you didn't hesitate to just come with the bones to my lab. I was impressed by you, this hardass cop wanting to know about the stuff I did every day. You're trying to experience it all, be the best police officer you can-while you still can."

Gail's breath catches in her throat and a wave of discomfort and panic washes over her, settling in her stomach.

"Don't psychoanalyze me. I hate that."

"I'm not trying to. And it was meant as a compliment, I didn't mean to offend you. I'm sure you'll be brilliant at whatever you do, behind a desk or in a cruiser."

"You don't know what my life is like."

"I know, and I'm trying. Sorry."

Gail swallows tightly, and refuses to look up.

"It's okay."

They're silent then, the clatter of the restaurant suddenly deafening around them. Their waiter swoops in to set dessert and two cups of coffee in front of them, and the steam fogs up Holly's glasses so she can't see her eyes anymore. She takes them off and wipes the water off, her voice light and airy.

"So, personal goals?"

It's an olive branch, and Gail fights with herself before taking it.

"Our waiter, according to you."

Holly grins, too big and too relieved.

"Yeah?"

When said waiter comes over to ask if he can get them anything else, they both break into easy laughter.

* * *

Holly pounces on the check before Gail can even look at it, and as they leave Gail's hand brushes ever so slightly against the other woman's, but it doesn't feel as strange or different as before. Maybe it's the wine, but even the cold night air can't dampen her spirits of being with Holly tonight.

"What now?"

"Now? I think I take you home, Peck, unless you have other plans."

The weight of the world seems to lift off Gail's shoulders. Fuck it- she's young and Holly is beside her, willing to walk with her in any direction she chooses. There's food in her stomach and a good amount of alcohol in her veins, and for all her complaints it seems a wonderful night to go on an adventure.

A taxi pulls up to the curb.

She grins at Holly before leaning forward to tap on the window. "You're not the only one who can plan a date."


	3. Chapter 3

They drive north from the inner city, leaving the blinding lights behind.

Gail leans back, resting her head on the worn leather and breathing in and out, in and out. It's probably disgusting- who knows what sort of shenanigans these seats have suffered through- but she can't bring herself to care. Not when Holly is bouncing around in her seat like an excited puppy, the seatbelt across her chest the only thing stopping the top of her head from hitting the cab's roof.

"_Jesus_- what, did you get an extra shot of espresso with your coffee or something? Sit still!" She says, elbowing Holly in the arm.

Holly completely ignores her, which is something Gail is quickly becoming accustomed to; but even she can feel the excitement coming in waves off the other woman's body, the delight of the unknown barely contained on her face. Gail can't help but smile at the other woman's wide-eyed expression. It's so childlike, so eager, a side of the forensic pathologist that she never knew existed.

But she wants to see more of it.

"You're not even going to give me a hint at where we're going? Not a crumb? One clue?" Holly fidgets again before sitting on her hands. Gail shakes her head.

"Nothing. Chill out, we're almost there. Isn't patience supposed to be a virtue of a good Christian woman?" She drawls out the last few words, grinning.

"Actually, no. Patience as a virtue pre-dates even the seven deadly sins in Christian literature. It goes back to an epic poem called Psychomania written in about the fifth century. "

Gail stares incredulously, and Holly just shrugs.

"I went to a lot of office hours for my Medieval Studies class in college. Hottest professor I ever had."

"Perv." Gail snickers.

"You should have been there. Legs for _miles_." Holly retorts, honest-to-goodness winking before she begins to rock back and forth on her hands. Gail pulls an offended face.

"Okay, okay, that is way too much information. You're such a weirdo, Stewart."

"Thank you much. Now, do I get to know where we're going?" Holly huffs, peering outside her window, undoubtedly searching for landmarks. Gail tucks her hands behind her head, smugly.

"Nope."

When the buildings begin to get more familiar the closer they get to their destination, Gail makes Holly cover her eyes. Holly, of course, peeks within seconds of Gail's command for her _not to_, and then she has to put one hand over Holly's face to stop her from peeking.

"I hope you know how unnecessary this is." Holly says, muffled, pushing her glasses to the top of her head to stop them from getting crushed.

"Shush."

They drive on.

* * *

When the car finally comes to a stop, Gail looks outside and exhales with relief when she sees that the place is still lit up and open, and a familiar figure is outlined in the window. She pays the cab driver with some difficulty, given that she only has one hand available, and carefully maneuvers the two of them out of the car and onto the sidewalk.

A sudden bout of nervousness nearly makes her stop in her tracks, but when Holly grips onto her arm for support she realizes that she's probably not in the best position to make sudden stops. Not when she has another human being practically blind beside her.

"Sorry- just walk in a straight line, you'll be fine."

"Okay, this is seriously creepy, Gail. Are you going to stab me and leave me here to die or something? Because dinner wasn't_ that_ bad, and then you'll have to kill that cab driver too and that's really too much effort-"

Gail barely stops herself from rolling her eyes.

"Do you ever stop talking? Just trust me on this."

It wasn't a question, but Holly breathes out a long white puff and says, "Okay."

Gail reminds herself again that this is a good idea, and braces herself for the backlash.

She removes her hand.

They're no longer in the city. Hell, they're not even in the suburbs, or in the sprawl that usually accompanied the view from 15 Division's many rounds of the city. Holly blinks for a moment, re-adjusts the glasses on her face, and gapes at the fields, the fences, the stables-

"You brought me to a…police ranch?"

There's no clear emotion in her voice and Gail panics for a moment, rubbing her hands nervously across the fabric of her now-mussed dress. It isn't that weird or creepy of a spot, seriously. There's streetlamps and everything.

"Um, yeah? 15 Division has to do equine training every once in a while, and I had to give lessons to Dov and Chris so they even had a chance of passing the test, the idiots. I know we just had dinner but I thought you might like it-"

"Gail."

Her name has never sounded like that, falling from Holly's lips.

"This is so much better than the batting cages." Holly breathes out, her eyes alight with surprise. Gail feels the flush of pride creep up her face, but hides it quickly with a grin and an exaggerated bow.

"Well, of course it is. I'm so much better at planning dates than you are, clearly. Gail one, Holly zero."

"But I thought you didn't like sports?"

"Horse-riding isn't a sport, Holly. It's an art."

Gail swings the door open for the two of them. A short, stocky man at the front desk looks up in surprise, breaking out into a wide smile when he sees her walking up.

"Ah, Gail Peck. Come back for another shot?"

"Nice to see you too, Jon. Are you guys still open? I know it's late."

"It is, but most of us are still here. One of our horses caught a fever that isn't going down, so we're monitoring her all of tonight. Plus, I owe our favorite Superintendent a favor from way back. You can collect in her absence." He grins, reaching under the counter for two sets of tack.

Gail looks quickly behind her at Holly, then turns back to him before dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Hey, I don't know how much Holly has ridden before, can you give me an easy rider? Just for her."

"No worries, all our horses are easy riders. And they need exercise, too, since none of you lot come back after falling on your asses. Half you police officers wouldn't be able to tell a horse's face from your own backside if we gave you any that were really hard to handle."

"Ouch." Gail is smiling when the thought occurs to her. "Please don't tell my mother about this."

It would sound pathetic to a lot of people, but to anyone who knows Elaine Peck, it's a bit of a necessity. Jon is one of those people, and nods sagely as he exits his station.

"My lips are sealed."

* * *

They wait out back, beside the stables, until Joe comes up with two horses and Holly, to Gail's surprise, walks immediately to one of the horses and begins to tack up, murmuring in the horse's ear to his obvious delight.

"Wait, you know how to ride?" Holly nods, her hands expertly lacing and tightening the buckles. "Darn it, Holly, I'm supposed to be the one impressing you."

Holly only smiles.

They've led the horses out of the stable and back towards the pasture before Gail before she realizes what Holly is wearing. Or rather, what they're both wearing. Shit.

"Wait-" Holly ignores her- again. "Holly, you are wearing the shortest dress known to man!"

"Excellent observation skills, Officer Peck!" Holly laughs, stepping onto the stirrup with one high-heeled boot and swinging onto the horse so naturally that Gail's jaw falls open for a moment.

"Come back here- I don't know how to ride side-saddle, Pollyanna!" She calls back, keeping one hand in the horse's mane as she struggles to pull her dress down to acceptable length and still give herself some mobility. Jesus, this was not turning out as expected.

"Well, figure it out!"

Gail wrestles with the sequined fabric for another second before giving up.

"Screw it." She mutters. Her mother picked out this dress anyway.

She calls at Holly to wait and runs back inside, slapping a hand down on the counter.

"I need a pair of scissors. Or a Swiss army knife. Anything that will cut cloth."

If he's confused he doesn't show it. Bless him. Taking the small utility knife, Gail reaches down and cuts two slits in the dress, running almost to her hip. The cold immediately seeps through the leggings underneath, but Gail ignores it, pushing down the material and running back outside.

She breathes a sigh of relief when she gets on the horse with no problems or loss of dignity. At least, not too much. Holly rides back around, and for once, is indeed shocked speechless. Her eyebrows go up in appreciation, and thank God it's dark out because Gail swears she might be blushing.

"What's this, Peck?"

"Seize the moment, right?" she grins, a little shocked herself. "I guess you bring it out in me."

Holly laughs and makes one easy loop around the pasture, going almost out of Gail's sight in the dim light. Unfortunately, Gail's horse has apparently not learned since 15 Division's attempts to guide it, and doesn't behave nearly as obediently. When she taps it twice on the nose, the horse gives her a baleful look and wanders back in the opposite direction that Holly is headed. As Gail struggles to regain control she hears Holly's laughter behind her.

"For Pete's sake-"

"Having trouble there?"

"This animal is ten times my size!" Gail retorts. "You're not supposed to be better than me at this, dammit. And, I hope you know, our asses are going to kill us tomorrow."

"It's totally worth it. And I should probably tell you, I just got an image of you as one of the Mounties. Wide brimmed hat, red uniform, the whole nine yards, scouring the border for whiskey smugglers and passport thieves. Hot."

Holly takes both hands off the reins and makes finger guns at her.

Gail makes a face.

"No one would look hot in those. If you're so interested in the Mounties, Holly, can I suggest you give me a hand here and- _Gosh darn_- help me with this?"

Holly brings her horse around, riding alongside Gail's stationary position. Her hand apparently has magical calming powers, because as soon as she touches the animal, he shakes himself gently and follows her like a puppy wherever she does, completely ignoring a fuming Gail on his back. Cocky, Holly reaches back to pat Gail's knee.

"There, there. Some people just need some practice before they're quite ready."

"I dislike you immensely right now."

"I'm flattered."

They're moving so slowly that Gail hardly feels it, the horses both seemingly content to amble together at a snail's pace around the farthest confines of the pasture. Holly's body is dappled in patterns of moonlight and the shadows of the trees surrounding them, and Gail almost stops breathing as she watches Holly move fluidly with the graceful motions of the animal underneath her.

She swears the air is clearer out here, away from the city and its penchant for car exhaust and public garbage collection. The stars, unfazed by light pollution, spread out smoothly on the inky black sky.

"Where'd you learn to ride so well?" Gail asks, softly, when it occurs to her that Holly hasn't said anything in a while. "You've obviously done this before."

Holly pulls off her helmet and pushes a hand through her hair, looking out at some point on the horizon.

"My dad grew up on a ranch in New Brunswick. He came to Toronto to find work after that business folded and stayed ever since. He used to tell all these stories- mostly complaints about living on a ranch, shoveling horse crap at the crack of dawn and all that, but I could tell he missed it. Badly. I never knew this place was out here, maybe one day I can get him back out here-" She trails off.

It's too cold for crickets, so the only noise is the soft pant of the horses and the wind, whistling through Gail's ears. Her horse, thank God, chooses that moment to move closer to Holly's, close enough that she can touch her shoulder.

"I can get Jon to give your dad a free tour. Maybe find some work here, they always need more people to help out who actually know about horses."

Holly's head whips around so fast the horse beneath her snorts.

"Really, you'd do that?"

Startled by Holly's sudden attention, Gail stumbles and reaches down to grip the saddle underneath her.

"Hey, being a Peck's not all bad. It wouldn't be a big deal, really."

One day she'll say what she means, which is _of course, for you_, but for right now Holly seems content with her answer.

"Thank you."

In the bright moonlight, Holly's eyes bloom with happiness. Gail feels that same spark of pride erupt in her when she realizes that she made it happen. All too soon, they hear the slow, rising whistle coming from the barn, and both their horses prick their ears up and turn back in the direction of home. Jon is waiting for them, yawning, and helps them untack before leading the horses back under cover. They say their goodnights and walk out together, Gail with two slits up her dress and Holly with bits of hay in her hair.

As they wait on the curb for yet another cab, Holly reaches out and opens her arms expectantly. Gail, hands in coat pockets, cocks her head to the side.

"What?"

"That was awesome."

"Okay? I don't know why you think that requires a hug."

"Gail, just shut up and hug me."

Gail does, and tries not to think about how good it feels.

* * *

They end up at Gail's apartment.

She's dropped nearly a hundred dollars on cab fare this one night. Her dress is practically ruined and her entire body is starting to feel the soreness. But the only thing she can really think of is that she doesn't want this evening to end, ever. It's the oddest dinner date that Gail's ever been on, and she's not sure she'll even believe it actually happened if Holly leaves now.

They stand awkwardly at the door of Gail's apartment before Gail rattles the keys in her hand.

"So do you want to come in? Warm up before you have to drive all the way home."

"Sure."

Holly lives fifteen minutes away, so Gail knows that she doesn't want it to end either.

They remember upon entry that Gail still has Breaking Bad recorded from her TV, and a box of Chris's cheap wine in the refrigerator, and end up sprawled on the living room couch, laughing at the most inopportune moments and almost spilling wine on the couch cushions.

When the credits roll across the screen, Holly yawns widely, throwing her legs off their perch in Gail's lap. Gail pushes herself upright with the same difficulty.

"Ok, you're officially not going to be able to drive home now. I hope you have cab fare and some fucking strong aspirin because you are not getting on the road in your condition."

"Psh. It takes more than half a box of wine to get me drunk. Watch!"

She stand up and proceeds to strut in a straight line across Gail's apartment, puts one finger on her nose and then the other, rubs her stomach and pats her head at the same time. She looks absolutely ridiculous, and Gail tosses Holly's coat at her before she can laugh.

"Well, at least let me walk you out, nerd."

* * *

It's nearly midnight, and the beginnings of tiredness are really seeping into Gail's body now, as they walk back again into the chill night. She doesn't have an early shift tomorrow but it doesn't matter- an extra hour or so with Holly has done nothing to stop her wishing this night wasn't over. It may be even worse, now, because now she has the memory of Holly lying peacefully on her sofa, content, and it's an image that refuses to leave Gail's mind.

Even if Holly is still beside her.

Maybe it's the wine talking, but as Holly says goodbye and turns to leave, Gail doesn't think before she lets her instinct take control of her mouth and body.

She swings back and stops Holly just before the woman steps onto the sidewalk, guiding her back up underneath the awning.

"Holly," she starts, and suddenly she notices that the woman before her is stunning, like _drop-dead_ beautiful, half-disheveled and exhausted and a little flushed with wine. Her hair shines brilliantly and so do her eyes, dark and deep, and every fiber of Gail's survival sense is still.

This is brand new information. How had she not noticed this before?

Then Gail knows she's most definitely wasted off her ass because she's straight, and Holly's fun and clever and beautiful but not in that way, even if her shirt does cling to her in all the right places and her lips do look incredibly kissable in this moment.

Holly is looking at her, still waiting for Gail to say something.

Gail closes her mouth.

Holly smiles, a little sadly, and tugs her into a brief hug. Gail's body responds immediately at the contact, despite herself, and she winds her arms around Holly's shoulders and squeezes like the woman might disappear into thin air. This is becoming a problem. Two hugs and she's so drawn to Holly's warmth, her quiet breathing against Gail's ear sending shivers down to her very soul.

"It's been a fun night, Gail. Sleep well, yeah?"

Too soon, Holly releases her and turns slowly back to her car.

Gail grasps at straws, watches them slip through her fingers, one by one, with every motion Holly makes to leave her, then reaches forward and grabs the last straw by the end. Holly's sleeve catches in her fingers. The woman looks back, startled.

"What is it, are you okay?"

There's a pain in Gail's chest that she's just now noticing, and increasing in severity with each second. It steals the breath from her lungs and the words from her mouth, tightening in a vice grip around her heart.

"If I wasn't-"

"What?"

"God, nevermind-"

"No, tell me." Holly steps even closer, until they are almost nose to nose. The frames of her glasses And then, almost unknown-

"If you weren't what, Gail?"

"If I wasn't straight, Holly, I would- I could just-" She trails off. Oh God, what the hell was she saying?

Holly's eyes snap. There's nothing left of what she's come to expect from the woman, just a hollow, hungry sort of look, sharpening into anger around the edges.

"Tell me what you would do."

"Holly-"

"Gail."

Gail closes her eyes, overcome by the way Holly's fingers ghost along her cheek.

"Please."

She opens her eyes and it's like a microscope blowing up every image of Holly's passive face. God, what a fucking terrible mess she's made of things. And Holly's still waiting for her answer. She's not sure where the words come from, but once they begin to spill out she can't stop them.

"I'd ask you to come back inside. I'd offer to make coffee but I wouldn't actually want coffee and neither would you, and I'd sit down and you-you'd sit down and I'd wouldn't care about Chris or Nick or any of them because you're here-"

"Gail-"

"and then I'd try to make you see how much-"

"Gail."

"how much I want-"

"Stop!"

"You asked-"

"I know I asked, okay? But I need you to stop."

Gail resists the urge to pick up her pride and run, but the door is behind her and Holly is in front of her, blocking every avenue of escape. Later she'll look back on this moment and wonder if she ever had a choice to avoid this, to not end up in this situation. The answer is probably no.

This was inevitable.

"I'm not even that drunk, am I?" Gail whispers, pressing the heel of her hand into her eyes.

"Nope." Holly laughs, humorlessly.

"And I'm straight."

"If you say so."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gail snaps.

"Nothing. That's something you need to figure out for yourself. Nothing I can do or say will change that part of you."

Gail throws up her hands in frustration.

"Then why'd you fucking ask me out tonight? And don't tell me it was coming from the goodness of your heart."

"Because we're friends, Gail."

"Friends." Gail says, incredulous. She can barely contain the disbelief in her voice. Holly raises a hand in a stiff, mocking salute, casting a shadow over her resolute face.

"Plus one forever, remember?"

"Don't mock me about this-"

"I'm not- Gail, _I'm not_!" Holly yells, then, driving Gail a full step back with the force of her voice. "Inviting you to dinner, going out with you tonight- none of it has been about mocking you! I liked being with you, okay? Is it too hard to understand that sometimes people just want to get to know you?"

"You actually expect me to believe that you don't want something else from me?"

"Can you look me in the eye and tell me some part of you doesn't want it too?"

Gail stays silent.

"Look, forget it." Holly sighs, a note of bitterness in her voice. "Maybe I wasn't just joking about wanting to take you out, but I thought I behaved myself tonight. If I overstepped your boundaries, I apologize-" Holly looks up to the sky and back down, picking her words with excruciating slowness.

"and I honestly did want to be your friend- I still want to. Tonight was amazing, and I can't thank you enough for sharing it with me. But I obviously misread this situation with you so I'm just going to leave while we still have some civility left."

For the third time, she tries to leave, but Gail can't let her.

"No-"

"No?"

"You didn't do anything wrong, I just-" Gail can't finish, closing her eyes, and Holly takes the opportunity to place her hands on Gail's arms, holding her with the lightest amount of pressure. Her voice softens and Gail curses Holly's ability to know exactly when she's the most vulnerable.

"Nothing will change."

"You don't know that." It escapes in a whisper.

"I do."

She's too damn confident.

"Trust me."

By the time Gail opens her eyes, Holly has moved even closer, until their breath mingles with each breath drawn in or out.

On a sudden leap of fate, stupidity, or bravery, Gail closes their distance and suddenly soft, warm lips are colliding with hers, kissing her breath away. She has to steady her hands on the small of Holly's back to keep balance, but as soon as she can she kisses Holly harder, suddenly desperate for the taste of her lips underneath the wine. Their mouths open, together, and the feeling is positively overwhelming in its tenderness. Everything is gentle, exploratory, but there's no fear anymore.

Kissing has never seemed so easy.

They pull back at the same time, and Holly presses her cheek against Gail's. Gail feels her hands sliding down her arms, nestling against her waist, holding her closer.

She stares resolutely down at her shoes, refusing to look Holly in the eyes. She's not sure whose heart is beating so loudly but she can't think with the noise of it in her ears, caught up in what has happened and what she wants to happen, tonight. She can't even keep the words straight, when Holly is this close.

Until she feels fingers underneath her chin, tilting her head up. Holly gazes at her like she's something astonishing.

"Observe." she says, a little out of breath. "You're still the same, Gail Peck."

Gail nods, as if in a daze. Before Holly can say anything more she kisses her again, more careful this time, to sear the memory of it into her mind. She's just so soft, her closeness enveloping every one of Gail's senses, and when Holly's tongue traces the contours of her lips Gail's body shivers with the promise.

When the kiss ends, Holly reaches up to look at her, brushing a strand of blonde hair out of her eyes.

"We're alright?"

Gail smiles, breathes, then backs up into the door and swings it open, grabbing hold of Holly's hand and leading her inside.

* * *

**AN**: Yes, the horses (and the bit of Holly's backstory) were complete artistic license. I also took a lot of inspiration from that particular episode for the last part of this. It's been a joy to write for you patient, lovely readers. Thank you for your feedback and dedication, and let's cross our fingers for Season 5!


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